Rebecca hadn't moved from her place beside the door, so Peter gently closed it and turned one of the locks. She stared down at the hanky between her trembling hands and nodded. “Uh-huh.”
Daisy looked up from her sniffing and let out a quiet growl. Lie.
I shot her a flat look. No doy, Daisy. I wasn't sure I'd seen anyone who looked less okay in my life.
Peter, in a soft tone, asked, “Do you know why we’re here, Ms. Rutherford?"
Rebecca's voice shook. "No…"
Daisy trotted to Peter’s side and growled. Lie.
Peter almost looked regretful as he glanced down at his dog and then addressed the mourning woman. "My dog, Daisy, smells lies. I'd like you to keep that in mind as you answer our questions."
Rebecca slumped against the wall and let out a whimper.
Oh, she was definitely guilty.
Peter licked his lips and began gently. "We’re here because Malorie Rutherford, your stepmother, was killed earlier this evening at a fundraising event."
Rebecca did her best to look surprised, but her expression just came out pained. "Oh?"
Daisy looked almost bored as she huffed. She's lying.
I crossed my arms. “Again—I saw you. You bumped into me.”
Rebecca whimpered. She startled when Peter began speaking again.
"A couple of witnesses say they saw you speaking with Malorie.”
“Oh, uh—” She scratched at the back of her neck and looked away. “They must’ve been mistaken.”
Daisy, ears flat, growled. Untrue.
I crossed my arms and huffed. “You are aware that we know you’re lying, right?”
Muffled shouts sounded from the other side of the wall that Rebecca leaned against. The woman cowered.
Peter, frowning, kept his tone gentle but firm. “Did you kill Malorie Rutherford?”
She looked up so quickly and her tone grew suddenly so venomous that I startled and instinctively took a step behind Peter.
“It’s Malorie Smithe, Smithe!” Spit flew from her mouth, illuminated by the few stubby candlesticks littered about the apartment. “How dare she keep my father’s name!” She bared her teeth and clenched her bony hands. “Yes, okay? Yes, I killed her!”
Peter and I looked at Daisy, who stood with her chest puffed up between Peter and the suddenly irate woman. The dog barked. True!
I shrugged at Peter. “Well, this has been an easy one.” I dusted off my hands. “Case closed.”
Rebecca lunged forward, and Peter spread his arms wide to shield me. The hackles rose on Daisy’s neck, but the older woman seemed not to notice the danger she was in from the huge German shepherd. She bared her yellowing teeth and snarled.
“That witch took everything from me! She killed my father—you’ve heard that, right? He disappeared at the last phoenix party, not long after he left my mother for that bottom-sucking sea slug!” She ground her teeth. “She got him to put the ring around her finger and then she whacked him! Probably fed him to the lava bear!”
“Hm. Lava bear?” I made a mental note to check that out.
Peter slowly withdrew his wand from his pocket. “So you killed Malorie for revenge? Why now?”
Rebecca sneered. “I got my revenge, yes, but…” She dropped her gaze and frowned, suddenly troubled. “I didn’t actually mean to kill her.” She looked up and spread her palms imploringly. “I’d been trying to get her to see me for weeks. My mother passed away recently, but she was sick for a very long time. When Malorie inherited my father’s estate, very little money came to me or my mother. The medical bills added up. I got desperate.”
Peter nodded, and I marveled at the compassion he could show a woman who was clearly so far gone that she’d just killed someone.
Rebecca talked with her hands, the hankie fluttering between them. “She wouldn’t even show me the courtesy of speaking with me! So I snuck into her party. She couldn’t just ignore me there—not in front of all her high-class friends. She asked me to step in the back, into the sanctuary for more privacy.”
Her pale eyes grew hard. “I demanded more of my dad’s money.” She clenched her jaw, eyes far away. “We walked and talked. She couldn’t even give me her full attention. Said she wanted to make sure all was in order in the phoenix’s cage. Malorie, always so smug, refused to give me a single coin and I—I got angry and shoved her—” Rebecca’s eyes opened wide, as though the scene were playing out in front of her again. “She fell backward into the phoenix’s cage. And she lay there—unmoving.”
I raised my brows. Well, that explained Malorie’s head wound.
She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth. “I killed her. After that I panicked. I figured the phoenix would burn away the evidence and maybe more of my father’s estate would revert to me. I ran.”
A heavy silence followed until Daisy, pointy ears pricked and hackles still raised, whined. All true.
“Welp.” I squeezed Peter’s shoulder and lowered my voice so that only he could hear. “The ramen carts are still going to be open after you process her. Want to grab some dinner and call it an early night, Officer Flint?”
He turned and gave me a quick grin before clearing his throat and turning back to Rebecca, who stood with her chest heaving and a crazed gleam in her eye.
Yep. Super guilty.
Peter’s scroll and quill magically appeared beside him, and he perused the scribbled writing for a moment before looking up at the madwoman. “Just a couple more things, ma’am?”
Her eyes shifted to his face, and Daisy, who still stood between them, tensed.
“After you pushed Malorie off the railing, what did you do with the phoenix, and why did you kill that other woman?”
I frowned. Oh, yeah. In all the excitement of solving Malorie’s murder, I’d nearly forgotten about our psychedelic Jane Doe.
Rebecca wrung her kerchief. “Phoenix? Other woman?” She shook herself. “I’m sorry—the firebird was in the cage when Malorie fell.” She shuddered. “Her body nearly crushed it. It had to scamper out of the way. Are
